


Time to Murder and Create

by Czarny Kot (Sephaya)



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sephaya/pseuds/Czarny%20Kot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzington.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teach Us to Care and Not to Care

_Following the Tango Scene in Ruslan Denisov_

In the end it was inevitable, the line she had once more drawn was disappearing under the burgeoning force of his unwavering tone and patient recitation. But she would not move forward to meet him - she was resolved on that point — no matter how great the attraction.

He was graceful and elusive, even with the smell of expensive cognac on his breath. Once she had thought that she could define him by the seductive care that she had considered the one true thing about him — even at times when she had raged against him — now that had been blown out the water.

It had been a hard awakening that she wished she could accustom herself to. She felt raw and wounded even now.

Tom had been the blunt fist, this was the sharp cut that caused no pain except for a slow bleeding out. She had always been wary of others, and finding someone, two someones even, who could see past the barriers she always put up had seemed exhilarating, but now, now she had failed twice; first Tom— coming face to face with his pity had been deeply humiliating, and now Red. But at least Red seemed to want her forgiveness.

She hadn’t forgiven him, what did he need forgiving for? If the affection had never been real than the only person she was going to blame was herself for thinking that someone could feel that way about her. But she wouldn’t deny herself the pleasure of striking back at him.

Not even though it hurt.

 


	2. Do I Dare?

_After Dinner in Ruslan Denisov_

The lobby of the hotel was almost empty as she followed Red out of the restaurant. The hollow and worn out feeling in her chest seemed appropriate in this cavernous relic of more prosperous times. She had gotten no answers from him at dinner, that had been no surprise. 

She expected to say her farewells and head up to bed, she was tired and the 10 hour time difference was beginning to make her feel stretched and thin skinned, even more so than she had been already.

He stopped by the elevator and pressed the Up button without turning to look at her. She moved to stand next to him.

“Good night, Red” Her tone was firm, and she did not turn her head either.

“Don’t worry, Lizzie,” his tone was dry, “I have a meeting upstairs. You won’t be inconvenienced by my company any longer than the time it takes to travel 3 floors.”

The doors opened and, catching his inclined head in the corner of her eye, she stepped first into the elevator. They both pressed their buttons on the panel.  
There was a rattle when the door slid shut. As the elevator rose, she suddenly heard the very audible screech of metal on metal, then the lights went out.

Lizzie retained a very clear memory of her kidnapping a few days earlier, so her first thought was to secure Red’s safety. As she swept her arm out to the side, she hoped he had not moved from where he had stood moments earlier. The audible ‘woof’ of expelled air as she hit him firmly across his sternum roused her spirits for a minute. By catching him off balance as he struggled to breathe, she was able to push him into the corner. There was a thud as his body slammed into the corner and she moved to follow him into a more protected position.

She swiveled in the darkness as she stepped forward, all the time trying to listen for sounds on the roof of the car, and cursing her lack of a gun. 

A sudden grasp on her wrist made her startle, and she leaned towards the arm that held her, looking for leverage. After a second sudden grasp at her waist, she suddenly realized that she was struggling with Red who, although still gasping, was trying to place his body between her and any danger.

There was a pause then— their breathing loud in the dark car — and she suddenly realized that there was no one else in the car with them.

She suddenly felt very foolish, but only for a moment, a second later she had turned her arm to grasp the hand that still held her wrist and brought her full strength to bear against him. They struggled wordless in the darkness for several minutes.

She could not seem to get the upper hand, but although he was very strong and she could not dislodge his grip, he gained no ground against her either. It was a stalemate. 

“Enough.” She could feel him breathing against her ear as she spoke. “Enough!” 

She released her grip and tried to step back, it took him a moment longer to let her go.


	3. Muttering Retreats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to Chapter 2

There was no sound in the elevator except their breathing. She was bent over, her hands on her knees, and even though she felt vulnerable standing in this position in the darkness, she needed to catch her breath.

“Lizzie, where’s your phone?” His voice was hoarse, maybe she had been more successful with her elbow than she had thought? “We need a light.”

She felt in her pocket, it wasn’t there, then she remembered that she had placed it in her clutch.

“It’s in my bag. I must have dropped it when the lights went out. Hang on.”

Crouching, she felt around carefully, her hands flattened and patting the gritty floor gingerly. Finally, her fingers touched the edge of her bag. 

“Got it.” Reaching inside, she found the phone and activated the screen. She winced at the sudden brightness. 

“Here” The scrape of his shoe across the floor made her turn until the faint light of the phone caught his hand waving in the air near her. She passed the phone over while trying not to touch his skin.

Holding the the light out in front of himself, he walked over to the control panel and grabbed the phone handle that hung underneath.

“Aлло? Aлло? Ah! здравствуйте!”

She tuned him out then, as those cheery hellos were as far as her own Russian went. Moving to the wall furthest away from him, she sunk down into a crouch. It was time to go to bed, she was so weary.

Red suddenly barked out a hearty laugh and hung up the receiver. 

“Dmitry says it will take about 20 minutes to fix the elevator. He told me the most wonderful joke, too.” 

Looking at him in the ghostly light cast by her phone, she could see he was trying to cast off the dark mood of just a few minutes earlier. He was smiling. 

“I don’t suppose you want to hear it? Unlike many Russian jokes, this one would translate pretty well.”

“No, thanks. I’m not really in the mood.” When she had laughed at something last? 

His head was tilted as he regarded her. Until, finally, he nodded. What that meant she could not guess.

“Here’s your phone.” He stepped forward and leaned down to hand it to her. She took it and switched off the light. There was a rustle and shuffling steps moving away from her.

They settled into silence then. The darkness suited her mood. There was no movement in the corner where she guessed he was standing. She couldn’t see him and she didn’t want to.

“I was laying on that table, you know,” she stopped to clear her throat again, “hoping you were okay, and praying for you to come find me.” 

She heard his intake of breath and she started speaking again quickly. She didn’t want to talk _with_ him about this. This was all she could handle right now.

“The interesting thing about torture, Red, is that they don’t stop even when you tell them everything you know. You know that though, don’t you?” 

She checked the time on the phone. It had been 20 minutes, hopefully they would get this damn thing started soon.

The overhead light turning on then was like a slap in the face. It was followed by a lurch that rocked her back on her heels, and the elevator finally started to ascend.

She stood and stretched slightly. Her floor was next and hopefully no one was waiting outside for the elevator. It felt like half of her hair was undone and she was sure the shoulder of her jacket was torn.

“I tried so hard not to trust you,” her voice was low, “but after everything with Tom, I wanted to...so badly.” She paused to clear her throat and the sound was raw. “I need to stop doing things like that.”


	4. Let Us Go Then, You and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble about the bench scene in Tom Connolly.

Now that everything has come down to this moment, it is clear that there was no point when he would have turned back. He is strangely relieved that he can still be sure of this. 

That fateful night — that moment — _no_ — that girl, had brought all of his false starts, and even more, his false pride, tumbling down. The fear in her young eyes had shaken him that night. The woman in front of him now was destroying him entirely.

He sits, and when she speaks, he fights not to turn. Her compassion will undo him and there is no time. They need to leave. He cannot help himself, though, and reaches to touch her, grasping for her blindly because he cannot meet her gaze. His hand closes around hers and, as he feels the coldness of her fingers, he hopes she takes some comfort from the heat of his body, because for her, he will always burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a Tumblr prompt by someone, I forget who.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles are courtesy of T.S. Eliot.


End file.
